You are not real
by kathaka9
Summary: AU. "You know who I really am?" "Yes, no one else knows except me. You know everyone thinks you're insane. I mean Sherlock Holmes is in fact a fictional character."
1. Prologue

"A long time ago a man named Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a series of stories about a consulting detective called Sherlock Holmes. It was all made up, there never was a Sherlock Holmes. As time went on the characters became famous and people wrote about them and pretended to be them.

That's all the others are. Copies of the originals or famous OC's others have created. I, on the other hand have always been real. I'm even more brilliant than Arthur wrote me. Then the BBC updated them. That's when the others came in. I was the most accomplished serial killer before they came along and messed everything up.

You, on the other hand have quite an interesting tale. I mean Sherlock Holmes... come on? Seriously? You have never been real. You're just a plaything I made to keep back my boredom. In that other universe you were in - solving cases, saving the day, stopping me; you really believed it was real. You really believe that you're real.

Please! In that universe you were too close to messing everything up. You were solving too many puzzles and crimes. You were close to discovering the true plan. Now Sherlock, you know the truth. The others were right, you have never been real. All this time you've been my plaything. You're the puppet and I pull the strings. You'll never get free. You'll never stop me."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"You can't stop me. I .OWN. YOU."

"I can escape. We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope."

"Truth be told there is no possibility of you escaping. This is my story and you need to play your part."

"No. I will not be part of your story. I always have a choice."

"Not here."

"Interesting choice of words."

Sherlock looked up at the chandelier that was just above Moriarty's head. He pulled out a gun he had acquired from an previous case and shot the chain holding it to the ceiling. The chandelier fell onto Moriarty. Sherlock quickly dashed out of the room.

Moriarty got up. Sherlock was doing exactly what he wanted. He didn't know it yet but he was playing his part. Pride and courage come before a fall. Sherlock Holmes was close to that fall. What Sherlock didn't realize is that he was also playing his part.


	2. Chapter 1: fictional

**Chapter 1: fictional.**

Sherlock had no idea what was going on. It had been a normal day, he'd solved a case then come back to 221B. This time it was different; all of his stuff was gone. John wasn't happy to see him like usual; in fact. John looked angry. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"John, it's me. I live here."

"No you don't. _I _live here. Now tell me who you are before I call the cops."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"That's not possible."

"Yes it is. Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth."

"NO IT'S NOT! HE'S A FICTIONAL CHARACTER!"

Sherlock couldn't believe this. His only friend didn't even believe he existed. "I'm real John."

"Get out of my flat."

Sherlock reluctantly complied. What was going on here. He went downstairs to 221A. Maybe John had just had way too much to drink. That must be it. Right? Mrs Hudson would sort everything out.

He walked down the stairs into 221A. Mrs Hudson was on the sofa knitting. When she saw him she dropped her knitting and screamed. She looked very shocked then finally pulled herself together and asked "Who are you?"

"Mrs Hudson, it's me. It's Sherlock."

"Sherlock? As in Sherlock Holmes?" He nodded. "But… thats... he doesn't even exist. Who do you think you are, trying to pass yourself off as Sherlock Holmes?"

"This isn't a trick."

"Yes it is. Please leave my flat."

Sherlock left Mrs Hudson's flat. He walked down towards the morgue. Molly would be there, she'd tell him what was going on. He texted her.

**Can you get some bodies ready? -SH**

**Who is this? -Molly**

**It's Sherlock. -SH**

**No, really. -Molly**

**No seriously it is Sherlock. -SH**

**Who's idea was this? No you can't have any bodies. -Molly**

**Molly. -SH**

**No. Just know. Text me again and you'll have the cops to worry about. -Molly.**

Actually the police sounded good right now. Lestrade was there, he'd know who he was. Right? Sherlock walked into the police station and demanded to speak to DI Lestrade. He was eventually allowed through and walked to Lestrade's office. He walked in without bothering to knock.

Lestrade who had been filling out paperwork looked up. A look of confusion crossed his face.

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"The truth."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"Oh for gods sake. I _AM_ Sherlock Holmes."

"He doesn't even exist."

"I can prove it…"

"Then go ahead. Prove to me that you're a fake."

"You've had a really hard day today. You are currently working on a case involving the notorious Jim Moriarty. You woke up around 5 this morning, you have bags under your eyes so you clearly don't get enough sleep. You're having issues within your marriage, in fact she keeps forcing you to sleep on the couch. I can tell your neck is very stiff…"

"That's quite enough. Look, anyone can deduce. Leave now and stop wasting my time."

When Sherlock didn't leave Lestrade called security. As they were dragging Sherlock out down the hallway he heard Sherlock shout "CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT'S GOING ON!?"

Lestrade decided that this problem needed a specialist. He grabbed his phone and called up Mycroft Holmes. If anyone knew what had gone wrong within that mans' brain, Mycroft would.

"Hello Gregory."

"Hello Mycroft."

"What do you need this time?" "It's... uh"

"What?"

"A man came in earlier claiming he was Sherlock Holmes."

"But that's not possible? Sherlock doesn't even exist. I need to do something. I'll call you back."

"Bye then?"

Mycroft had already hung up. He had to do some research on this man. Come on…. who is he? Who is this so called 'Sherlock Holmes?'


	3. Chapter 2: kidnapped

**Chapter 2: kidnapped**

As Sherlock walked the streets looking for a place to stay for the night a very familiar black jaguar car parked beside him. This could only mean one thing. Mycroft was about to kidnap him.

He got in the car and saw Mycroft's internet absorbed personal assistant, otherwise known as Anthea.

"Where are we going?"

"You're _'Sherlock Holmes,'_ you tell me." Her voice was sharp and mocking.

"Wherever we're going it involves Mycroft."

They stayed quiet the rest of the journey. When they finally reached their destination they were outside a bakery. Well Mycroft really does need a new diet. They walked inside, Mycroft was waiting for them at a table. He had a mug of tea in his hand. Sherlock walked over.

"Hello, Mycroft."

"How do you know who I am?"

"You're my brother... remember?"

"I don't have a brother."

"Oh not you too!"

"I'm sorry whoever you really are. But you're not Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock doesn't even exist, he's just a character created by Arthur Conan Doyle."

"WRONG! I _AM_ Sherlock Holmes. I don't know what has gotten into all of you, but I intend to find out."

Mycroft scanned the mans eyes. He wasn't a drunk, druggy or an accident victim... So what happened to make him believe he was Sherlock Holmes? Sherlock noticed Mycroft staring at him and stared back. It seemed like hours before Mycroft finally looked away. Sherlock got up and left the bakery.

As Sherlock walked he felt more alone than ever. What if his entire life up until this point had been a dream? Then who was he? Suddenly to masculine hands grabbed him from behind. He was pulled backwards into a car. Once in the car someone blindfolded him. Here we go again.

When he was eventually unblindfolded he was in what looked like a hotel room. Standing in front of him was none other than Jim Moriarty. "Hello Sherlock."

At first Sherlock was angry that Moriarty had kidnapped him. Then he realised that Moriarty had actually used his name. Moriarty knew he was real. "Moriarty?"

"Who did you think it was? The queen of England?"

"I knew it was someone who hated me."

"Brilliant deduction Sherlock."

"You know who I really am?"

"Yes. No one else knows except me. You know… everyone thinks you're insane. I mean Sherlock Holmes is in fact a fictional character."

"Then…"

"How are you here? Well thats an interesting story actually..."


	4. Chapter 3: Trust me

**A/N: Hi guys, thanks to everyone who has been reading this. Thank you for your reviews it's nice to know what you guys think. Also thanks to my favouriter. You guys are all great. Just letting you know, the prologue was originally chapter 3 but then I got told by my editor to put it at the start. So yeah... Heres the next chapter. I hope you guys like it. **

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**Chapter 4: Trust me.**

Sherlock had to make them somehow believe what was in front of their eyes. There may be an actual fictional character called Sherlock Holmes. No, hold on, HE was Sherlock Holmes and he most is certainly not, and had NEVER been, a fictional character, He had to make them believe,,,, but how? There was no way he could prove it. Think Sherlock, that's what you're good at. How can you convince them that you're the real deal?

Meanwhile...

John and Lestrade were sitting in 221B wondering about the mysterious man claiming to be Sherlock Holmes. They had been so harsh on him. But yet he was completely mad, right?

"What should we do?"

"I don't know yet. But I have a feeling he'll be back."

"Of course he will John. Mad men don't give that easy."

"Are we sure he really is mad? What if he's just had a traumatic experience leaving him believing he is Sherlock Holmes because the truth is too much to bear?"

"Maybe you're right. But the only way to know is to ask him."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

With that John bounded out of the flat leaving Lestrade to follow. It didn't take them long to find 'Sherlock', because he was also looking for them. "We need to talk."

"Come back to my flat. If you want to talk we'll do it there."

"Fine."

The trio walked back down the street to 221B. When they got inside Sherlock flopped down into a chair."No, I have not been through a traumatic experience."

"How did you know..."

"Your expression and tone screamed it at me John."

"Oh."

"Look, I am Sherlock Holmes. A fictional character he may be, but I'm not. I. AM. REAL."

"That's impossible. If you really are Sherlock Holmes, you should know that better than anyone."

"Not impossible, just highly improbable."

"Am I dreaming? This can't be real."

"No John. I need you to trust me on this."

"How can I trust you if I'm not even sure if you're telling the truth?"

"I've known you for 3 years and I've never met anyone I trust more."

"Iâ€¦ I've never met you before in my life?"

"Just pretend that made sense. Just trust me for 20 minutes."

"Fine."

"Good, follow me."

Sherlock ran out the door. Lestrade looked at John, questioning "You're really going to trust this man?"

I can at least listen. I'll be back soon." With that John followed Sherlock out the door.

Sherlock had run down Baker St trying to remember where Moriarty had taken him. It was definitely a hotel. High class and expensive. Then it clicked. Sherlock sped up leaving John scrambling to keep up.

They arrived at the hotel in just under 10 minutes. They went inside. Moriarty was sitting in the lobby waiting for them. Recognition crossed John's face. "Richard Brook?"

Sherlock was shocked. This is not Richard Brook. Richard Brook doesn't even exist. No this is Jim Moriarty. "No, John, Richard Brook doesn't exist. This is Jim Moriarty."

John gasped. He knew Richard, Richard was Molly's boyfriend. He would never hurt a fly. Jim Moriarty on the other hand was a ruthless criminal who killed people for fun. Richard and Jim are complete opposites. How dare this so called 'Sherlock Holmes' accuse his friend of being Jim.

"Tell me it's not true."

"It isn't John. That man, he says he is Sherlock Holmes but in reality he is Jim Moriarty."

Sherlock saw the look of betrayal on John's face. What had Moriarty done to John?

"John, It's not true. He's lying, he's always lying."

"No, no. You did it!"

"Did what? I… I'm not him. I..."

"Save it. The truth is out. It's time you got what's coming to you..."

"And that would be?"

"Justice."


	5. Chapter 4: We need to leave

**A/N: Okay I'm finally putting this chapter up. This chapter has been through a lot of rewrites. Thank you everyone who's been reading this. I hope you enjoy.**

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**Chapter 5: We need to leave**

It didn't take long for Lestrade and his men to show up and arrest him. Now the cops decide to do their jobs well. They checked him for any item he could use to pick locks or hurt them. As they took him to jail they told him exactly how long he would have. He only has a week, a week to escape. A week to prove to everyone that he was right.

Sherlock got put in solitary confinement. Good, he didn't like people scanned the room looking for a way out. There was none. Great he was stuck here.

About midway through the week Mycroft came and visited him. This surprised Sherlock. Mycroft had taken time away from doing whatever it was he did, to come and see him, how nice. "Hello."

"Mycroft, how... _nice_ of you to come and visit me."

"I may not know who you really are, but I know you're not Moriarty."

"At least someone believes me. So why are you here and not running the British government?"

"I'm here... to get you out of here."

Mycroft described to him a very detailed plan. It was sure to work, as long as no one interfered. That night after Mycroft left was the night they were going to use it. Step one: Mycroft diverts the security cameras away from Sherlock's cell.

Sherlock watched as the cameras changed direction, step one complete. Step two: a temporary glitch in the power trips the electronic lock on Sherlock's cell door. When the guards come to see what's going on Sherlock ducks past them and escapes. Sherlock was anxiously waiting for the guards to come and check.

It seemed like hours before they finally realised something was wrong. None of them seemed to notice when Sherlock snuck past them. How on Earth does Scotland Yard manage to solve crimes with this lot on board? Finally Sherlock would meet Mycroft outside.

Sherlock saw Mycroft's black Jaguar waiting for him. He practically ran to it, desperate to get away from these idiots who called themselves detectives. The door to the car opened and Sherlock got inside. Whoever was driving the car drove very quickly.

"I saved you, now I think I deserve some answers."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who are you... really?"

"How many times do I have to say it? I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Okay, okay... Why are you here then?"

"Honestly... I don't know."

The questions were seemingly everyday subjects. After a while Sherlock realised that they hadn't arrived at Mycroft's house yet. In fact they were on the edge of London. What had happened to the car? Why were they all the way out here? Oh the car's being controlled. Probably Moriarty. They had to get out. Who knows where they were going.

Before Mycroft could react, Sherlock had grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the car. They hit the ground very hard. Sherlock immediately got up.

"We need to go, we aren't safe here."

"You just pulled me out of a moving car!"

'And?"

"You could've killed us."

"Let's skip the lecture. We need to leave... NOW!"

Even though Mycroft didn't want to move he had to admit that Sherlock had a point. They were after all in the middle of the road. Mycroft texted Anthea to come and pick them up. She showed up fairly quickly and took them to Mycroft's flat without any questions.

When they got back to Mycroft's 'house' (more like castle) they sat down on the couch. "What was that about?"

"Moriarty must want to dispose of me."

"His name is Richard Brook?"

"Stop calling him that; his name is Jim Moriarty."

"Sure..."

"Look, I'm still trying to wrap my head around what's happening. One minute I was living my life and the next minute I apparently don't exist. He filled everything with lies. He told me that this is his story and I'm just a plaything. But you know what? I may be part of his story but that doesn't mean I can't have my own."


	6. Chapter 5: I believe in Sherlock Holmes

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I went on holiday and couldn't :( Update coming now :) **

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**Chapter 5: I believe in Sherlock Homes.**

Mycroft stared in shock as Sherlock told him. "You have control over your story Mycroft. Promise me, that no matter what you will stop him. End his story."

"Why?"

"He's a psychopath. The longer he lives the more people die."

"I will."

Sherlock left his flat the following morning. Something about calling someone named Irene Adler.

Sherlock had nearly given up when he remembered Irene. He had tracked her down. He went in and saw her. She had no idea who he was. "Irene. My name is Sherlock Holmes. I need your help."

"What with?"

"I need you to convince John and the others to trust me. Convince them that I am real."

"It's kind of hard to believe."

"I don't care. I have to stop Moriarty. I know the cost. To stop him I need all the help I can get."

"Why do you need to stop him?"

"He's killed heaps of innocent people."

"I'll try to convince them."

Sherlock had left before she even had a chance to say goodbye. She pulled out her phone and texted.

**#Believe in Sherlock Holmes. -IA**

**What do you mean? -JW**

**Sherlock doesn't exist. -GL**

**#Sherlock Holmes is real. -IA**

**It's not entirely impossible... -JW**

**Is there a reason we're being sent this? -GL**

**Trust him. -IA**

**He needs us to trust him? He tried that. We found out he was Moriarty. -JW**

**Lies. -IA**

**It was fake? -GL**

**Now you're getting it. -IA**

**He needs your help. -IA**

**What with? -JW**

**Moriarty. -IA**

**I believe in Sherlock Holmes. -JW**


	7. Chapter 6: You and me

**Chapter 6: You and me.**

Sherlock knew exactly where to find Moriarty. He felt disappointed that he had to stop Moriarty alone.

_Alone is what I have, alone protects me._

_No. Friends protect people._

John had been right all along. He was stronger when he had his friends. Now he was going to face Moriarty, alone. He was doubting himself when he had to have faith. Faith and hope would be the only things that would let him win.

He walked into the hotel where he knew Moriarty was staying. Moriarty was waiting for him. "Finally playing your part, I see."

"I am not part of your story."

"Yes you are. It's funny, watching you dance. Watching you begin to doubt, even yourself. The game never ends Sherlock, and it never will."

"We have to die at some point."

"Not me. So therefore not you either. How will it feel? Watching your friends die? Watching John knowing that he'll never believe in you. In the end all that'll be left will be me and you."

_People want to know your human. -John Watson_

_I'm breaking every rule letting you in here. -Lestrade_

_Oh, I'm sure something will turn up Sherlock. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up. -Mrs Hudson._

_I don't count. -Molly Hooper._

_Caring is not an advantage. -Mycroft Holmes._

_All that'll be left is me and you. Me and you. In the end. Me and you. _

The words replayed in his head. Everything his friends/family had said to him. But more importantly Moriarty's taunting words were replaying in his mind. Me and you. All that'll be left is me and you. No. Moriarty will not win. He can't.

Moriarty once said _every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain. _But in every fairy tale the villain always loses and the hero always wins. He was the hero right? _Heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them. _No Sherlock. Now is the time to be what you've always been. A hero.

"Pride has always been your downfall."

"Same for you."

"The hero always wins."

"Not this time. I think it's time that the villain wins for a change. Heroes are boring. But you, Sherlock Holmes, are not a hero. In the end you'll be like me. Because in the end that's all that will be left. YOU AND ME. How will it feel? Knowing you're alone in the universe. No one believes in you Sherlock. You are already alone."

"No he's not." A voice shouted from behind them. Sherlock knew that voice, as did Moriarty. It was the voice of John Watson.

John walked closer to them. "I take it that you're the real Moriarty?" He said pointing at Moriarty.

"Yes."

"It was you who did it then. YOU killed her."

"Yes, John I killed your little girlfriend. What was her name again? Mary Morstan? Yes that's it. I remember watching her burn. Watching her scream for you. But you can't do anything to me John. This is my story. I pull the strings."

"I left your story a long time ago. I'm not playing the part, I _AM _the part."

"What do you mean?"

"All those years I trusted you, and you were the one who did it. You ended her, now I'm going to end you."

John pulled a gun from his pocket and shot Moriarty. Moriarty collapsed to the ground, fighting to stay alive. "You may have killed me. But remember this. You also killed Sherlock."


	8. Chapter 7: The story is never over

**A/N: Last chapter. Warning feels!**

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Chapter 7: The story is never over.

John stared at Jim's motionless body lying dead on the ground. What did he mean. You also killed Sherlock? Sherlock wasn't dead. Sherlock was standing in front of him. Sherlock was perfectly fine.

"You really are Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes John. I…"

Sherlock broke off collapsing to the ground gasping for air. "John?"

"I'm here Sherlock."

Sherlock couldn't say anything else. His whole body felt like it was on fire. It felt like it was the end. No, he had to live, for John. He'd fought this far, he couldn't die now. "I… I was… linked to him…. he brought me here. Thats what he meant. Me and you. I can only die when he dies and John. You just killed him. A Moriarty always has his Sherlock, doesn't he?"

"And Sherlock always has his Dr Watson… I'm… sorry… I didn't know." John said softly

"I knew the cost. He had to be stopped John. I'm just glad that you were the one who had the courage to stop him."

"But… I've killed you too."

"You didn't know."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"John, I trusted you with my life. I made the right decision."

"I trust you too Sherlock. But how can you trust me… even after I've caused you to die?"

"Because you're my blogger John."

"I wish I knew what you're talking about. You came into my life out of nowhere. By chance."

"There is no such thing as chance. This was always supposed to happen. The end of his story."

"It's also the end of yours."

"The story isn't over yet. John, you've always been there. I've always trusted you, even when you didn't trust me. You keep living that life of yours, forget you ever met me. When I found myself here, what hurt the most was the fact you didn't know who I was. But you do now. The story isn't over. I…"

Sherlock faded away. John tried to remind himself that Sherlock was never there. He was fiction, but Sherlock had touched his heart. Now that he was gone, John wasn't sure he'd ever be okay again.

"You know what Sherlock? In the short time I've known you, you touched my heart. Made me remember what it was like when I had Mary. I… I'd go to hell and back for you, cross heaven and Earth. I suppose I should say it. You fixed me. You are a hero. I love you. But what did you mean the story isn't over? You're dead? How can it still be going?"

Lestrade appeared behind and put a comforting hand on John's shoulder. "The story is never over, it's just where you choose to stop the story."


End file.
